


Mountains

by Amymel86



Series: Jonsa Drabble Fest March 2018 [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Day 1, F/M, Jonsa Drabble Fest, Mountains, canon AU, mentions of suicidal thoughts (very brief), sansa in the vale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-30 01:44:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13939884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amymel86/pseuds/Amymel86
Summary: She stood, stepping away from the rough mountain wall of her cell, toeing closer, closer to the drop.Bang! Bang! Bang!It wouldn’t be long now. Whomever is trying to break down her door will succeed in their aim and she’ll be at their mercy. Friend or foe? Friend or foe?





	Mountains

**Author's Note:**

> Drabble for the Jonsa Drabble Fest - Day 1 - Mountains

Sansa awakes cold and stiff. Her ears pained from the whipping winds.

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

Someone’s here. Someone without the keys to the sky cell she’d been thrown into.

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

If she didn’t already feel half deaf from the howl of the bitter wind up here in the mountains, Sansa might wince at the loud thudding coming from the other side of the door.

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

She stood, stepping away from the rough mountain wall of her cell, toeing closer, _closer_ to the drop.

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

It wouldn’t be long now. Whomever is trying to break down her door will succeed in their aim and she’ll be at their mercy. _Friend or foe? Friend or foe?_

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

Petyr told her to trust no one. Everyone wants _something_ from her. Her claim, her name, her maidenhead. _“It’s for your own protection,”_ he’d justified, his words slithering from his lips as he showed her to the sky cell. “You brought this on yourself, sweet girl,” he cooed, patting her cheek with a cold and clammy palm. Sansa supposes she did, after she’d snatched the keys to her chamber and tried to escape the Eyrie one night. But she’d do it again in a heartbeat.

She held her breath, glancing from the now creaking door to the dizzying fall. She could leap now, it would all be over, the pain, the second guessing everyone and everything. The game. She would be with mother, father, Robb, Bran and Rickon, Arya probably too. Maybe they’re waiting for her? Maybe she should-

_Bang! Bang! ... BANG!_

The door burst free from it’s hinges and there framed by its previous standing space is a panting, blood splattered man with such a look of the North that it makes Sansa gasp and almost loose her footing.

 _“Sansa!”_ he calls out to her, worried for her proximity to the edge of nothing. And _oh,_ how his voice, his accent, the very sight of him is sweet, _so sweet_.

 _“Jon!”_ she lunges forward, crashing into him with enough force to rid his lungs of any breath.

“I’m here,” he coos into her hair, holding her tight in arms that used to swing her around when she were a mere toddler, “I’ve found you.”

 _Home,_ she thinks, _I am home now._


End file.
